When the Going Gets Tough
by Sister of Squeaky
Summary: In a world where the Dark Lord triumphed and all hope is lost, Harry Potter wishes upon a star and gets a most surprising result... Prologue up


**Prologue** - To Wish Upon a Star

"Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight -- damn, that's not a star, that's a helicopter."

Harry Potter glared up at the night sky at the offending vehicle. After it had _finally_ departed from his line of sight, he sighed and tried to make himself more comfortable in the long grass. "Guess I'll have to start over again," he said to nobody in particular. The campfire nearby crackled in reply.

"One, two, three, four -- damn it!"

He glared once more, this time at the star that streaked its way across the night sky. "I guess somebody up there doesn't want me counting stars to fall asleep," he said aloud again. He stared for a while at the brilliant glowing trail that faded rapidly and then sighed. "Might as well wish on it. Not like it could hurt."

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. "I wish," he began slowly. "for someone to defeat the Dark Lord. Someone who knows how to do it, how to hurt him, and who can stop ... stop _him_." He lay there with his eyes closed, wishing very hard indeed, not wanting to open his eyes to the bitter disappointment that he knew he'd find.

It felt like an eternity, but it might have only been a minute or two when he heard a _Thump! Crash!_ and a muttered curse. Opening his eyes, Harry sat up and blinked at the person who had appeared out of nowhere. He -- for it _was_ a he -- was naked, and his back was facing Harry. "Who are you?" he blurted out. "Where'd you come from?"

The person shuddered once, and then again. Then he shook his head as if to clear it before turning around and facing Harry.

And Harry found himself staring into his own face.

* * *

Granted New Harry wasn't exactly the same as Harry. New Harry was much older -- practically an adult -- and he had many more scars. And he looked angry. And confused.

"I don't suppose your name is Harry Potter as well?" New Harry asked politely shifted around on the grass and sitting crosslegged, seemingly disinterested towards his state of undress.

Harry nodded dumbly still trying to comprehend what was going on.

New Harry glanced around, taking in the matted grass around Harry, the campfire, and the tent, before looking up and noting the fading trail of the star. "Ah, you wished on a star, didn't you?" he asked pleasantly. "Mind telling me what you wished for?"

Clearing his throat, Harry found his voice and replied hoarsely, "Someone to defeat the Dark Lord."

New Harry nodded and replied, "I thought as much." He stood up, rolled his head about his shoulders with a grimace, and then said, "I can't very well defeat Voldemort like this."

A pile of clothing appeared at his feet with a muffled thump. New Harry rubbed his face with one hand and said, in a tired voice, "That's not what I meant and you damn well know it."

There was a flash and a sword appeared, landing on the pile of clothes. One eyebrow went up. New Harry picked up the sword and gave it an experimental thrust and jab. "Haven't seen this beauty in a long time," he murmured, gazing fondly at the blade. "But I was thinking something more along the lines of living people."

And then the two Harrys were no longer the only people in the clearing.

* * *

The six of them sat around the campfire, toasting the last of Harry's precious marshmellows on sticks. Four of them looked suitably confused, while New Harry looked pensieve and Harry was trying to figure out what the heck was going on. Deciding that he'd probably get more of an answer if he actually asked the question, Harry tried to swallow the sticky, sweet treat so that he could do so.

But one of the newcomers beat him to it.

"Not that I mind this rather pleasant recess in the forest, but I am rather curious as to the circumstances surrounding our arrival in this quaint locale," he said in a cultured voice with a hint of a Germanic accent. He, like the others, was wearing simple black robes over a plain black shirt, long pants, and boots. His gold colored hair was pulled back in a queue and he sported a neatly trimmed chin beard.

"What my dear friend is trying to say, Harry," drawled the only woman in the group in a definite American accent. "is where the _hell _are we, how'd we get here, and who's he?" She jabbed a finger at Harry's chest.

Harry glared at her, and she glared back at him, shoulder length brown hair blowing in the wind and appearing to glow faintly in the firelight. Just as he was about to retort, New Harry interrupted smoothly.

"Ah, yes, introductions. We can't keep calling each other 'hey, you', hmmm?"

The golden-haired man turned to look at New Harry, and the woman gave Harry one last glare before following suit. The other who men, who had remained silent did so as well.

New Harry stood up. "Introductions first, I believe," he said. "I shall introduce each of you, and then I will explain our appearance and our purpose, hmmm?"

Without giving anyone a chance to reply, he continued, "My name is Harry Potter, as I am sure you all well know. I am twenty-two years old." He gestured towards Harry. "This is also Harry Potter, but, as you can see, he is significantly younger." New Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I'm nine," Harry supplied.

"He is only nine," New Harry continued speaking without missing a beat. "I will explain to you how this is possible in a few minutes." He pointed towards the woman and said, "This is Aniela Tolaczynski, heir of her Line. She is twenty-seven and holds a Grandmastery in Black Magic."

The blond haired man was introduced as Baer Mallorsohn, a twenty-five-year-old Transfiguration Master. He smiled genially and shook Harry's hand before New Harry went on to introduce the rest. Black-haired Ze'ev Boryslaw, the twenty-four-year old Potions Master nodded towards Harry before going back to study the surrounding foliage.

Finally New Harry introduced the most ominous-looking of the group. Resting a hand on the red-haired man's shoulder, he said, "And this is my best mate, Ron Weasley. Ron -- this is Harry."

Weasley raised his head and looked blankly at Harry, who tried hard not to shudder. Weasley only had one eye, the other a gaping socket. His nose was bent sideways and slashed with numerous scars. His entire right cheek was missing, leaving his gums and teeth visible to the world. Numerous scars ran across his head, leaving patches where no hair would grow. He raised his left hand towards Harry in acknowledgement, flexing the three remaining fingers once before lowering it again.

New Harry beamed at the mismatched group sitting around the fireplace, ignoring the fact that at least two of them were glaring at him, one was more concerned with the plant life in the area, and one seemed to be off in his own little world. "As to how we got here," New Harry explained, "Harry here wished upon a shooting star for someone to stop the Dark Lord."

Suddenly everybody's attention was riveted on New Harry. "Voldemort is still here-- wherever _here_ is?" asked Boryslaw, face taking on an impassive, stony expression. "I thought you killed him."

"I did kill him," New Harry replied. "In the temporal thread within our time stream in which our current varriant existance --"

Mallorsohn interrupted him, clearing his throat loudly. "Layman's terms, please, Harry," he said, once he got his attention. "The rest of us are happily unaware of the nuances involved in the study of temporal magick."

New Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. Then he continued as if he had never been interrupted. "In our temporal reality, I killed Voldemort. We are currently in a parallel universe in which, obviously, I have not managed to kill Voldemort and am still nine years old."

There was silence but for the crickets chirping and the campfire crackling. Harry was staring at New Harry, and from the corner of his eye noticed that Mallorsohn and Tolaczynski were doing likewise. Even Boryslaw lost interest in the fauna and stared at New Harry, though Weasley continued to stare mindlessly into the fire and abruptly began to hum tunelessly.

"Who has the power to do that, Harry?" asked Boryslaw softly, though loudly enough to be heard over Weasley's humming. "A god?"

A wry smile spread across Harry's face. "There are no gods, Ze'ev," he replied. "There have been, however, some very powerful humans who have managed to achieve demi-god status, but there are no gods." He sat back down, pulled a marshmellow from a pocket, and fitted it onto his stick. "And even demi-gods are not immortal, in most cases," he continued. "Except for one. The Master of Time."

There was silence once more but for the humming. This time Tolaczynski broke it. "Merlin," she said quietly. Then louder, "Merlin is the Master of Time. As such he exists in no point in history as well as in all points. He has no beginning, so he has no end. He has no end so he lives forever, but he has no beginning, so he never lives." She paused, looking pensive. "Merlin sent us here to help this Harry --" she gestured "-- to defeat Voldemort?"

"Not exactly," New Harry replied as he carefully pulled his toasted marshmellow off of his stick. "He only sent me. You four were sent because I asked for it." He popped the marshmellow into his mouth and chewed away, happily ignoring his surroundings.

The other three stared at him incredulously, and even Weasley stopped his incessant humming.

"You did _what_?"

* * *

It was very late when they finally turned in. The bats had long since returned to their sleep, and the birds had begun to awaken. Off to the East, the morning sun began to tint the blue-black sky a faint pink to herald the coming day.

"We are going to have a long discussion about the current situation," New Harry told Harry as he settled down to sleep. "Political, personal, temporal, everything. We need to find out where the pockets of resistance are centered, who organizes them, and anything that your Voldemort has not taken advantage of in this timeline. But later. Even heroes need sleep."

Too tired to argue and frankly too exhausted to care that he was going to go to sleep in the company of five strangers, Harry shrugged his agreement, curled up into a ball, and went to sleep on the grass. 


End file.
